A Darker Side to Dean
by TheWickedQuill
Summary: Dean's secret thoughts about Sam are different than you may have imagined.


Title: A Darker Side to Dean  
Show: Supernatural  
Rating: PG  
Genre: Angst  
Type: Standalone  
Written: 15 February 2007

**Summary**: Dean's secret thoughts about Sam are different that you may have imagined.

**A/N**: My muse smacked me with a frying pan and told me to get over myself and give in. I haven't read any SN fan fic, nor have I watched season two yet, however my resolve is slowly crumbling. Bear with me and keep in mind that this is a flight of fancy and that I was in a somewhat darker place lately, which should explain the 'darker' side of the character.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. Final word: I don't own anything but my own ideas.

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**A DARKER SIDE TO DEAN**

* * *

One of my first memories is of darkness. A heavy, cold, aching darkness. Darkness so thick no sound could breach it, no light would penetrate it and no shimmer of hope dared touch it.

That's when it all started. I couldn't have been more than three years old, Sammy was just a dream to me though already growing in the womb, and Mom and Dad were always together, always happy. But I was cold and dark and lost - no matter how much time they spent with me. I ached for the day my brother would come and keep me from loneliness. I looked to the unborn as my savior.

Icy fingers. I remember the cold, clammy fingers of darkness creeping up my neck and tracing my jaw. The frozen hand of shadow cupping my cheek and brushing sweat dampened hair from my forehead when I woke to the nightmare.

Then Sammy was born and the silence that had always accompanied my nightly visitor gained voice and began whispering ominous words of a dark destiny, destruction and ultimately, death.

It became my only friend, the one I turned to when I was abandoned to the night and its raging shadows and depressing gloom. It embraced me, shielding me from murky shades and fading moons.

My savior. The child with the face of an angel, eyes that shone with innocence and a small mouth turned up with gurgling smiles. The light in the darkness, Dad called him. And jealousy set in.

Evil consumed my mother shortly thereafter. Evil, he called it. I called it that, too, because he did. Sent me out, to spare me the sight of Evil licking at my mother's robe, to save Sammy. But was it to save _me_?

The voice, those fingers, that soothing, cool touch of Evil that hovered above and around me as a young child. It was only trying to help. To protect _me_. To give me back the father I craved, to put me in the spotlight so I'd no longer be just 'the older brother', 'the big boy' but _the_ older brother, _the_ big boy. _The One._

The little boy with a spattering of freckles and gently curling brown locks was my blessing and my curse. He kept me from the painful solitude forced upon me in later years, but was the source of my irritation and anger towards my father.

Dad thought the Evil was after Mom, after Sam, after everyone he loved. Sure. Yet he never seemed to fear that it was after _me_.

My savior. Sam. My old friend has come home after years away. Has taken to reminding me of the desolate state of my life; a life thrust upon me because of my so-called savior. A life without the chance to find true and lasting love, a life without parents - two parents - who love and care for me. My old friend reminds me of a promise from long ago on the night Sammy came into this world:

_I will always be there for you; when it seems no one else cares, know that you are not alone._

Icy flames freeze any further feeling and warm me from within. I stare down at the sleeping form of my brother, the childish innocence long gone and rightfully so.

Fate really screwed with you, bro. Born into the wrong family. You keep me grounded and enraged, sane and crazy. You make me feel so many, many things. And so long as I can feel, I know I'm still alive.

And regardless of my friend's entreaties that I end your life, I won't. Because as long as _you_ live, _I_ live.

And I'm not ready to die, so you're safe...

_...for now._

- FIN -


End file.
